San Francisco Chronicle

We could all use some more witches

Personally, I like a good witch, which isn’t necessaril­y a reference to the benevolent kind, nor is it me saying that the next time I’m on a hike I hope to encounter a trio of weird sisters in possession of informatio­n about my future. It’s more that witches have gotten a bad rep throughout the ages, and we could all do with a bit of unlocking the witch within, with spring providing the perfect occasion.

Everyone loves Halloween, but how many people are familiar with Walpurgis Night, the witch-centric celebratio­n that occurs as the dying month of April gives way to the life of May? This is the witches’ Sabbath, a freefor-all for the members of the coven to mount those broomstick­s, be they literal or metaphoric­al, and take to the sky.

What I like about witches is how inventive and impish they are. You never hear of a bland witch. They don’t go along to get along. There’s nothing rote about the life of a witch. Even in “Macbeth,” those old girls gathered around the cauldron weren’t so much as lying to the doomed Thane of Cawdor as they were getting creative with the truth.

Often you have to make your own fun in this life. Ingenuity helps. And so does a dark sense of humor, especially in our current version of the world. Better to be a witch than a sheep, as the old saying goes — or should.

In Boston, where I live, we like to think we know something about witches, thanks to our proximity to Salem, where every last local is capable of casting a spell to make you buy a tacky witch sweatshirt when you visit.

There’s a cartooning, though, with the Salem witch saga that makes light of a horrible, murderous tragedy, as if we’re all just having some good old macabre fun, at the cost of dehumanizi­ng people.

In contrast, Walpurgis Night is a celebratio­n of independen­ce that’s paired with a warning, but it might not be the warning we’re inclined to think it is — a simple, beware-witchesare-out-there advisory notice.

Instead, the relevant cautioning is that we’re in trouble when we end up in lockstep with everyone and everything around us. You have to be you. That means finding your way of witching it up.

In the 1960s, people talked about letting their freak flag fly. This was not

Witches leave a mark. You don’t forget them. They’re rebellious and creative, born questioner­s of the Establishm­ent and authority, which is another good thing, so long as you’re not taking it too far and poisoning apples and the like.

a bad thing — rather it was a cutting loose, a celebratio­n of the self, and it owed a debt to the spirit of witches. But even in historical epicenters of freakishne­ss, like San Francisco and Berkeley, such sentiments have dissipated.

Witches aren’t obsessed with orthodoxy, as we so often seem to be. We think in terms of blending in, of negating our individual­ity, stifling the voice within or at least making sure that it doesn’t go out so that anyone might think we’re … gasp … different.

In this regard, the witch is instructiv­e. They’re clever and mirthful. There are no boring witches.

Think about the witches in stories, song and film, and how much they love a tart line or a good joke. The Wicked Witch of the West in “The Wizard of Oz” is a green-faced harridan, sure, but she excels at cracking wise. Even when she’s melting, she’s firing off those zingers, such that we think her spirit will live on.

Witches leave a mark. You don’t forget them. They’re rebellious and creative, born questioner­s of the Establishm­ent and authority, which is another good thing, so long as you’re not taking it too far and poisoning apples and the like.

There are these woods I hike north of Salem in a town called Gloucester, where an alleged witch once stood before a bridge and collected trinkets and foodstuffs before allowing anyone to pass, witches being entreprene­urial. I think about her spirit returning to the spot on Walpurgis Night and if I might be able to sense it should I take to those woods at midnight.

And that’s a great aspect of witches, too — they get us using our imaginatio­ns, especially that darkling, romantic part, with the shadows and silhouette­s in which we often find the best bits. Witches reorder our imaginativ­e innards just as those three weird sisters were mixing up one spooky, moorland gazpacho.

Shake the dust off of the proverbial broomstick here as May gets underway and take a trip across the face of the moon. We can all do with a reminder to be free and to stir the pot. After all, there’s no worse hex than being the same as everyone else. More eye of newt? Yes, please! But hold the vanilla.